


Watch Your Tone

by dreamlittleyo



Series: Distress and Disarray [10]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Feelings, Guilt, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rank Disparity, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-13
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-07-11 16:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15976070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamlittleyo/pseuds/dreamlittleyo
Summary: In which Washington stands his ground.





	Watch Your Tone

There are days—more rare as the years pass but still impossible to escape—when Washington still feels like a fraud.

How much of his career has been luck and happenstance, more than any skill or ability of his own? When he looks back on the path that brought him to the U.S.S. Nelson, he sees random chaotic chance at every turn. Every promotion a surprise, except the ones that came to him on the battlefield, where necessity and tragedy violently entangled.

He is a fleet general. A man of authority and prestige, with a reputation that eclipses his modest accomplishments.

He never feels less worthy than when he's in contention with his fiercely competent communications chief.

"I'm not trying to be difficult," Hamilton says in a tight voice. "I'm just telling you, you're _wrong_."

Hamilton possesses all the stubbornness of a man with no concept of self-doubt. Even if Washington knows better—knows just how desperate the boy's need to prove himself at every turn—the illusion remains. The force of certainty once Hamilton has chosen his course, the unwavering confidence in undertaking even the most daunting tasks.

Washington has never met an officer more capable. At this rate, Hamilton will find himself the youngest general in the fleet with a command of his own.

But Hamilton is also prideful, and tactless, and often insubordinate. He contains his most argumentative moods behind closed doors, but that still leaves moments like this. Moments in which Washington knows he must adhere to a decision Hamilton won't like, and has to remind himself that _he_ is the officer in charge.

"My orders stand, Colonel."

The use of rank instead of his name gives Hamilton pause at least. In the past couple weeks, Washington has retreated farther than ever behind protocol and the chain of command. He has no other way to cope with the complicated understanding that now lingers beneath the surface of _every_ interaction with Alexander.

There's an intimacy between them he can't afford to acknowledge—acknowledging it will mean sending his boy away—and Washington is not strong enough for that.

"Charles Lee is an incompetent coward!" Vehemence drives Hamilton forward across the narrow floor and directly in front of Washington. He doesn't seem to notice how close he's standing, how far he's crowded into Washington's space.

It's with difficulty Washington keeps his voice mild. "He also outranks you. You'd do well to remember that _you_ are not in command of this vessel."

"If you think Lee has any goddamn respect for authority—"

"It _does not matter_." The mild tone strains. Hamilton is getting under his skin as always, maddening and impossible to ignore. If only the exasperation twisting beneath Washington's skin were enough to chase away the infatuation he still harbors.

"You should transfer him. Get him off the ship. Make him someone else's problem."

"Alexander, that is _enough_." The last word thunders too loud in the quiet room, and Hamilton takes a startled step back.

Wide eyes blink and glance away from Washington's face—downward—only now seeming to register the unintended proximity. Hamilton falls back another step. A third. Grasping wordlessly for the weakened bulwark of propriety he cast carelessly aside in his bluster.

"I'm sorry." Hamilton's eyes cut to the floor and he straightens his spine, stands at rigid attention. "Forgive me, sir. I didn't mean to overstep." Even this apology is undercut by a smoldering current of defiance, barely contained. But it's the best Washington is going to get, and he is far too tired to continue fighting.

"You're dismissed, Colonel."

Hamilton's chin rises and he looks Washington directly in the eye. There again is the spark of fire—not just rebellion but something more private—and the sight sends a cascade of possessiveness through Washington's chest. Hamilton holds his gaze several seconds too long, before nodding in an imperfect show of deference.

"Yes, sir."

Then Hamilton is gone. Washington finds himself alone, and gradually reminds himself to breathe.

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Fraud, Meaning, Undertake


End file.
